


More What They Expected

by SecondStarOnTheLeft



Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fix-It, Genderswap, Post 7.02
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-06
Updated: 2012-02-06
Packaged: 2017-10-30 17:32:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/334321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SecondStarOnTheLeft/pseuds/SecondStarOnTheLeft
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which the Winchesters see that not all angels are dicks, and that there is always hope, no matter how dire things may seem.<br/>And maybe, just maybe, even Sam and Dean get a happy ending of sorts.<br/>AU of 7x02, fix-it fic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Sharply AU as of 7x02. First SPN fic, so I hope the characterisation is okay.
> 
> Shameless fix-it fic, because I miss Cas (also Misha, but mostly Cas). And a surprise that mightn't be too surprising to anyone who knows my tastes in fic well.
> 
> Warnings for minor use and abuse of Jewish and Catholic angelic lore, and one OC (if you can call a Judeo-canonical Archangel an OC).

Saraqael knew that it would be beyond any of her brethren to trace the brothers Winchester, but not a single one of them had ever been so close to Castiel as she was. She had looked after him from the moment the Father had breathed life into him, had regarded him as _her_ fledgling, had literally taken him under her wing on more than one occasion when the others had teased him for his unwavering devotion and absolute dedication.

So, because she was bound so tightly to Castiel, to the young angel who, in the most private corners of her own mind, she regarded as her son, she had the ability to trace the brothers Winchester.

Or rather, one of the brothers Winchester. Dean Winchester, who had born the mark of Castiel's Grace on his flesh for a time, who was the first man in eons - possibly the first _man_ ever - to be loved by an angel.

Because, until recently, angels had only descended to Earth in male vessels, and the majority of them were so stupidly homophobic, so any loving had gone to human women.

And because, whether Dean Winchester knew it or not - whether Castiel had known it or not - her beautiful boy loved that foolish, headstrong, impertinent, blaspheming man. Castiel's painfully logical mind had made it easy for him to reason that he had Fallen because the Winchesters had shown him what free will could be, but in a single act, he had disproved his own logic.

In beating Dean Winchester to a bloody pulp in order to prevent him saying yes to Michael, Castiel had proved beyond all doubt that he loved the man.

It broke Saraqael's ancient heart to see someone she loved so dearly push aside his own feelings by necessity, for practicality's sake, and she was going to do everything within her considerable power to put things right.

 

*

 

Dean looked down at the bundle of wet fabric in his hand, averting his eyes from the reservoir.

"So, he's gone," he said, his voice oddly hoarse.

In so many ways, this was worse than losing Sammy. With Sammy, there had always been a chance - however slim - that he would come back, and, while Dean hadn't known it until so long after, Sammy had come back. _Cas_ had brought him back.

But Cas was gone now. There was no way he could have survived that-

"I wouldn't be so sure, Dean Winchester."

The woman leaning against the chain-link fence had dark hair and deep blue eyes, eyes so like Cas' that it was unnerving. In fact, she just looked a hell of a lot like Cas-

"You can call me Sara," she said. "I come to help you."

From the corner of his eye, he could see Sam and Bobby reaching for knife and gun, but "Sara" just smiled.

"I'm a friend of Castiel's," she said easily, straightening up and flicking her wrist. "I know that you are also his friends. I know that you hold him almost as dearly as I do. If you didn't, I wouldn't be here to offer you my help - I'd be attempting to gain salvation for him alone. However, I know his mind, and I know that he would rather you were involved."

When she'd flicked her wrist, a gleaming silver blade had appeared in her hand. It was an angel's sword, but different from Cas' somehow. Dean was sure he'd seen it somewhere before-

"You haven't seen my sword before, although it should be proof to you that I am, at least, brethren to Castiel," she said, her voice gentle, placating. "But you may have seen one nearly identical too it. There were only seven of us who ever bore swords like this."

Bobby's face lit up in comprehension, and "Sara"'s smile widened.

"Saraqael?" he guessed, lowering his gun.

"Quite, Robert," she agreed, nodding in the same way a proud mother might. "I am indeed the Archangel Saraqael. It is an honour to meet you all - Castiel told me much. He held you all in high regard."

 

*

 

She hadn't expected the silence that met her introduction, or the sudden hostility in the air.

"You're an Archangel?" Dean demanded, that righteous anger Castiel had told her about rising to the surface. "How many of you douchebags are there?"

She hesitated, hurt by his fury and the accusation evident in his voice, and flicked her wrist. Perhaps it would be better to keep her sword hidden for an exchange such as this.

"We were seven. Six have fallen. Now I am one."

"Yeah? And where were all of you during the damn Apocalypse? Or when Cas went psycho?"

She flinched at the venom in his harsh voice, at the implication that she willingly allowed harm to come to her Father's Creation, to Castiel, because there was nothing in all of eternity that she would rather do less.

"I am the youngest of my siblings," she said tightly. "Gabriel alone of us stood a chance against Lucifer or Michael, and see where that got him - he visited me before he stood against Lucifer, forbade me from involving myself in the End of Days. Raphael longed for Armageddon for reasons I still don't understand, Uriel fell from his rank eons ago, and Michael was forced to smite Ramiel during the War of the Nephilim. Now it is just me. I tried to dissuade Castiel-"

"Wait," Sam interrupted. "You stood against him and he let you live?"

"Castiel and I are very close," she said, shrugging it off. "He would never dare raise a hand against me. All of the Host would turn against him if he were to try."

"Oh yeah? What's so special about you?"

 

*

 

Sam watched the slow smile spread across the Archangel's face at Dean's question.

"I alone of the Seven was ever what you might call nurturing," she said, biting her lip. "I cared for the fledglings when our Father left us. Castiel was among them - I bonded more profoundly with him than any of the others. I see him as a son. _My_ son. It is well known among the Host that I have healed more and argued for salvation for more who might have Fallen than any other, and any injury I might sustain would earn considerable ire among those I helped."

"Ire enough to trouble Cas when he was running hot?" Bobby growled sceptically.

Saraqael shrugged.

"I don't know - all I know is that the Heavenly Host is a force to be reckoned with when riled, and my destruction would most certainly rile them. Besides, Castiel came to speak with me after he destroyed Raphael's forces, to let me know that my position would remain unchanged."

"What position is that?"

She blushed - that was something Sam had never seen an angel do before. Then again, the majority of the angels he'd met hadn't really been the blushing type. There was something about Saraqael that reminded him of a pretty housewife even as it reminded him of Cas. It was probably the pearls, and the sensible shoes.

"Well, now that Castiel has... Temporarily Fallen, I'm the most powerful angel in existence."

 

*

 

Her plan, as she explained it to them, infuriated Dean.

"You mean to tell me that you don't actually have a damn clue whether Cas is alive or dead?"

That proved to be the straw that broke the camel's back, and she found herself surging to her feet in Bobby's sitting room, eyes blazing with righteous fury and hair swirling in the breeze conjured solely from her heightened emotions.

"I have an intimate knowledge of the current state of being of every angel, Dean Winchester, alive or dead, because I am an angel of _death,_ as well as of prayer, you foolish man," she snarled, getting in his face despite being a good six inches shorter than him. "I know Castiel is alive, and I will find him - there are other problems to contend with, and if it weren't for that I would not have condescended to ask for your help!"

"Condescended? Lady-"

"I have cared for Castiel for millenia, and in the last three years I have watched as you belittled him in more ways than I thought possible - I will accept nothing but total cooperation from you, or I will find others to provide the necessary help my Castiel will require when I return him to Earth!"

 

*

 

 

Dean could honestly say that he wasn't expecting that.

"Cas'll be coming back to Earth? Not to Heaven?"

Saraqael's laugh was bitter.

"It is only due to my sudden upgrade in position and my popularity amongst the Host that he is being allowed to continue - if I hadn't vouched for him, every member of the Host would now be searching for what remains of his Grace to destroy is as thoroughly as is possible. I will bring him back, but I will have to cast him down as Michael did with Lucifer."

Horror filled Dean at the prospect of Cas spending eternity in the Pit-

"Oh! Oh, no, not so far as that - what Michael was supposed to do with Lucifer was rip his Grace from him, render him mortal. The Pit, the Cage - all of it was a later addition to the plan because Michael was crueler than any of us could ever have imagined. No, Castiel will be made mortal, and he will be allowed to live a mortal life here on Earth. That is why I need your help - I am already impossibly busy, and much as I would like to personally guide his rehabilitation, I simply don't have the time to do anything but guard him, as he was supposed to do with you."

"What's eating into your time so much that you can't look after Cas, if you see him as a son?"

She pursed her lips, and Dean saw that Cas had picked up a few habits from his pseudo-mom.

"Everything, both here and in Heaven, is gone figuratively to Hell. It's up to me to try and restore order Upstairs, prevent the remnants of the two armies from killing each other, prevent everyone from killing Castiel, find the Leviathan, find a way to lock them back in Purgatory, find this Crowley who has named himself King of Hell and destroy him, heal all the other wrongs my brothers and Castiel perpetrated while on Earth, restore the natural order of things - which was disrupted by so many conflicts involving angels on Earth in such a short space of time - and try and find Castiel. I also have to find someone of James Novak's bloodline who would be a suitable vessel for Castiel, which is proving nigh on impossible."

"You can't just bring back Jimmy?" Sam asked, confused. "I mean, all the other times Cas died-"

"No. While the Leviathan's explosion was not enough to end Castiel, it was more than enough to completely detroy James. James seems to have been an exception among the male members of his family with regards his devotion - Castiel does and always has favoured male vessels, has always identified as male, but I don't know if I'll be able to find him a male vessel this time."

"So Cas could come back as a girl?"

Dean avoided Sam's amazed eyes, focusing hard on Saraqael.

She smiled.

"Would that be such a bad thing, Dean Winchester?"

And then she was gone.

 

*

 

Saraqael hunted long for Castiel, neglecting her other duties. There were many of her other charges who needed her healing touch, an upsetting amount who needed her in her role as Angel of Death, but she delegated and assigned duties and spent all of her time and effort searching for her boy.

Who would soon be her _girl._

She had sometimes wondered at the coincidence of herself, Castiel and - once upon a time - Gabriel all finding vessels from the same bloodline.

Gabriel had died in a vessel that was James Novak's great-times-many grand-uncle, a man who had lived hundreds of years ago and who had hosted Gabriel ever since he had deserted Heaven. The man bore no resemblance to James, didn't even share a name with him - he had been Ulrik something, when mortal - but he had been related.

Her own vessel was that of Alicia Novak, James' second cousin on his father's side, a woman in her late fifties who bore a striking resemblance to her younger cousin. A woman who had no other immediate family than a devout daughter, of about James' age, who was the image of her mother - right down to the haunting blue eyes and untidy dark hair - who went by the name of Louisa.

But she had always been closer to Gabriel than to any of her other brothers, finding his light-heartedness a relief when compared with Michael and Raphael's anger, Lucifer and Ramiel's need to rebel and Uriel's general failure. She and Gabriel had quietly gone about their duties, trying to maintain the peace of their home even as their brothers tore each other to shreds.

When Heaven had become too much for Gabriel, when he'd felt compelled to find a vessel and leave them for good, when he had faced such difficulties in finding a vessel who could host him for long enough, she had suggested he try what had been, till then, her bloodline - and he had found his Ulrik, and she had sent him off with a kiss to the forehead and a promise to never reveal his secret.

When Castiel told her that he was being sent to Earth to guard the Michaelsword, two things had happened. First, her heart had ached at the thought of her brothers fighting once more. Second, she had agreed to help her boy find a vessel, and had been secretly delighted that he, too, was best suited to her bloodline.

In her mind, in had set her and her closest family apart from the rest, and as far from Michael and Lucifer, who she had always feared, as possible.

It was a comfort to her, as well, to know where to look for a vessel for Castiel - it made it all that little bit easier. Knowing as she did that Louisa Novak (her mother had reverted to her maiden name after her father's death) was ready and prepared to accept Castiel meant that looking for him could remain her singular priority.

She hadn't expected things to be quite so bad when she did eventually find him.

"Oh, love," she sighed, gathering the fragile, worn little thing that was his Grace close to her, stroking the damaged feathers of his battered, broken wings, and carrying him to her haven, to the Heaven she and Gabriel had always favoured on those rare afternoons off when they played chess, stolen from the future before the humans had even considered the possibility.

Seth's Heaven was a lovely place, safe and filled with laughter, and it was understood that occasionally Saraqael visited and was never to be disturbed. She was thankful for the accord she shared with the owner, thankful that she had long ago been able to fashion her own little corner and now had somewhere to try and heal Castiel.

"Come back to me, love," she murmured, working her fingers into the mess of his wings, repairing the tears in the skin and setting the bones and filling in the gaps where his feathers had shedded.

She'd always admired his wings - wider than average, powerful with lean muscle, feathered in the glossy blue-black of a raven. It was a relief to see them take shape as she worked, to see him take on a form that could approximate human.

"Saraqael," he growled, the agony that flashed in his eyes attesting to the pain speech caused him. She hummed faintly and pressed her fingers to his throat, fixing the damage that had been done to his voice.

"I'm here, love," she assured him, stroking the hair that he'd copied from James Novak. "You have been terrible, my dear."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, turning his face away from her. "You should-"

"I will never smite you, Castiel," she said, gentle but firm. She jerked sharply at his left wing, pushing it back into the socket that rose from his shoulder blade and ignoring his grunt of discomfort. "But you must be punished. You overreached to a frankly disturbing degree - you should be ashamed of yourself," she added seriously. "But your intentions were pure, and power has always corrupted - my brothers are proof of that."

He said nothing, choosing instead to let her continue with her work.

"You are not curious about your punishment?"

"I can only assume that you are behind the mercy which is allowing me to survive, and offer my thanks. You are taking control, I assume?"

"Michael is already bawling his disgust from the Cage," she said, an edge of amusement lightening her voice. "And Uriel is asking that I reinstate him to his previous rank. I am refusing, of course, but there are others who may be of use. Who may be able to handle the power."

She nudged his left leg and pushed his femur back into line with his pelvis. Again, she ignored his exclamation of pain and continued with her work.

"I once thought you might someday ascend the ranks," she told him. "But alas, it is not to be. Still, being a mortal with an Archangel as your guardian is something, isn't it?"

Healed, he rolled over to look at her with wide eyes.

"Mortal? I'm being cast out?"

She cradled his face in her hand.

"Oh, love," she said softly. "What more do you deserve?"

 

*

 

It had all fallen into place with a remarkable ease, Castiel would later reflect.

Saraqael had told him of her arrangement with the Winchesters (with Dean), had explained the conditions of his being allowed to live. She would bind his brothers and sisters, place an oath on the Host so that none could harm him.

Although he supposed that there wasn't an angel in all of Creation who would contest the knowledge that being stripped of his Grace was punishment enough. He would be safe on Earth.

It had taken less time than expected to get used to the idea of having a female vessel - Louisa Novak had been dying anyways, an aneurysm that Saraqael made him wait for before allowing him to fill the void her soul left. She - Saraqael - had stayed with Castiel for a few days, to help adjust her to the idea that she was no longer a him.

And then it had been a case of shopping for clothes (made enjoyable by Saraqael's amusement at the notion of actually paying for anything, rather than just flying in and taking what was necessary) and being dropped off outside Bobby Singer's house.

Saraqael had taken her shoulders and looked deep into her eyes.

"My little sparrow," she said affectionately, kissing Castiel's forehead. "Heaven will be a lonely place without you. You and Gabriel, both gone in such a short time. I don't know what I'll do without someone to play chess with."

She stayed just long enough to run her fingers through Castiel's hair and promise (her voice a low murmur of Enochian) that she would always, always watch over her little sparrow, and that she would visit as often as she could.

Then Castiel turned, swallowed down her nervousness, and walked up the steps to Bobby's front door.

In her new, smaller vessel, the older man seemed huge. She could only imagine how big Sam would seem.

How big Dean would seem.

Bobby smiled wide and pulled her inside, fingers warm around her wrist.

"Hey, idjits! Your angel's back!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follow up detailing what girl!Cas' life was like with les Winchesters et Bobby. Because of reasons.
> 
> Yes, there will be Destiel. 'Cept, y'know, het Destiel. And nothing graphic.
> 
> Anywho, enjoy.

To say that Dean was sceptical of "Sara" the Archangel's plan to find and fix Cas would have been a minor understatement.

He didn't believe that she'd be able to find Cas, and even if she had, he never imagined that she'd be able to fix him. Not in a million years.

So, he wasn't surprised when two years went by and, even though she dropped in every six weeks to report on "how much closer" she was to Cas, there was still no sign of her actually having found the idiot angel.

But then there's that knock on the door of Bobby's house, when he and Sam are resting up for a few days after a particularly nasty case involving a wraith with a taste for guys just like Sam, and Bobby calls them _idjits_ for the first time in too long and shouts something about "their angel," and Dean figures he probably owes Sara an apology.

The smallish, slightly terrified looking woman standing half-behind Bobby, a heavy duffel bag over her shoulder, is so clearly Cas that his breath catches in his throat. She's all wide, staring blue eyes, her dark hair askew and her clothes just slightly too big. She even stands just like Cas did, slightly slumped as though not entirely used to having a body.

"Hello," she says quietly, her voice gentle and soft and lower than most women's, a quiet contralto murmur. She seems startled by her own voice, touching the fingers of her free hand to her lips in amazement, and he can't help but smile.

Sam strides across the room and scoops her up in a hug, something which seems to stun her slightly, and she swallows nervously when he releases her and sets her back down on the floor.

"I believe I owe you all an apology," she says, dipping her head and meeting Dean's eyes, even though her words are directed at everyone in the room. "I... Overreached."

Sam and Bobby rush to assure her that they understand that she (he? She was a guy at the time) had meant well, had had pure intentions, had never meant to go mad and smite all and sundry.

Dean steps forward, crosses his arms and looks down into those eyes and nods. "Yeah, you were an idiot. But we've all been stupid at one stage or another. Now c'mon, let's get you something to eat."

 

*

 

She works hard to become strong. She learns how to look after herself without someone (Dean) having to check up on her.

She learns how to cook, and Bobby announces that she makes the best damn lemon meringue pie he's ever tasted.

She proves to be surprisingly fast, and can outrun Sam over short distances despite his having some seven inches extra leg over her.

She's handy with a knife, both in and out of the kitchen (she prefers a long knife or a short sword to a dagger, saying it feels more like her angel-sword had).

She's taken a long while to get used to a gun, mainly because they only have big guns and she's pretty small.

And she learns to be human. She laughs and smiles more. She finds that she loves cop shows, but hates girly sitcoms. She still doesn't have a clue about pop culture, but she has a really quirky musical taste and a talent for sneaking weird tapes into the Impala without Dean noticing. Sam always finds it hilarious when they flick on the radio and David Bowie or Pulp start playing, instead of the Zeppelin tape Dean's always _sure_ he left in the player.

As she becomes proficient in the basics of hunting, they begin working on other skills she'll need to help them - lying, for one, which she's still abysmal at unless it's a matter of life or death. They learn that she can only walk in high-heeled boots, not pumps, and that she has a disturbingly effective femme fatale act she tells them she worked out from watching Ruby and Meg. She doesn't particularly mind wearing short skirts, so long as she's allowed wear dark tights with them, but she hates wearing low-cut tops.

(Frankly, Dean thinks, she's hot enough without letting it all hang out. She really doesn't need to dress like a slut to get the attention of every guy in every bar they walk into.)

 

*

 

Despite Sam's teasing, Dean refuses to acknowledge that his feelings for Cas are anything but utterly platonic until she nearly dies in his arms during a witch-hunt.

He leaves the poor-little-rich-witch to Sam and presses his hands against the rough-edged knife wound in Cas' pale stomach. Her eyes are even wider than usual, her strong little fingers gripping his wrists as she gasps for breath and tries not to scream.

"You stay with me, y'hear?" he orders, pressing harder with his right hand and reaching for his hip flask with his left. He has to pray that whatever was on that knife will be killed by the alcohol, and even knowing that it'll help doesn't make it any easier to see Cas' eyes flood with tears of pain.

A hand lands on his shoulder, too light to be Sam's, and he's reaching for Cas' gun, the one strapped to her thigh under her skirt, without even thinking.

"No, Dean Winchester, I'm here to help!" Saraqael's suddenly crouching on the other side of Cas' body, knocking aside his hands and touching two long fingers to Cas' damp forehead.

And Cas is better.

"Why?" she asks, sitting up and tilting her head in confusion. "Why are you here, Saraqael?"

Sara's smile is wide and full of information that she won't share - Dean's struck by a sudden resemblance to Gabriel for no reason he can really place.

"Father has plans for you, little sparrow," she says teasingly, pushing Cas' hair back from her face and kissing her forehead. "And none of them involve you dying anytime soon - trust me, I'm his right-hand angel now."

"He's back?" Cas gasps, and the happiness that lights up her face is more profound than anything Dean's ever seen before. "When? When did he get back-"

"Hush now," Saraqael says with a smile, looping her arm behind Cas' shoulders and heaving her to her feet. "Just calm down and focus on learning how to dodge a knife, hmm?"

She disappears then, and Castiel collapses against him. Her shirt and skirt are still wet with her blood, her cheeks and lips spattered red, her eyes wide with joy and knowledge and relief and hope, and only Sam's timely arrival stops him from kissing her senseless right then and there.

 

*

 

When he does eventually give in, it takes them both by surprise. They're back at Bobby's, and the two of them head out into the yard to kill a couple of hours. Dean pokes around at the engines of some of the less crappy cars Bobby has lying about, and Cas watches him with wide, curious eyes. She sticks to him like glue, more comfortable with him than with Bobby, but more comfortable with Bobby than with Sam.

She's sitting on the hood of a car not far away, humming along to the radio and sipping her beer, while he's bent over a rusted-out engine and looking for anything worth salvaging. He does this whenever they have downtime - sits out here in the fading sunshine with a beer and Cas, listening to old songs and poking at old cars. She finds it peaceful, and he feels like it's the best way to shut out all the bad memories that he's ever tried.

Suddenly, though, he turns to reach for a spanner and she's there, right up beside him, looking into his face with all the intensity of a kilowatt shock.

"Cas-"

He's about to make some stupid comment about boundaries, about personal space, but she reaches up and wipes a smear of dirt from his face and he nearly falls apart just at the touch of her fingers.

She doesn't seem to mind when he grabs her and kisses her with a hell of a lot more force than she deserves, because she throws her arms around his neck and presses her slim little body hard against him and the whole world can just go to hell for all he cares.

 

*

 

On the day of their wedding, Bobby insists on giving her away, and Saraqael turns up to play mother-of-the-bride.

Some other angels, angels Dean doesn't recognise, also turn up for the occasion, but they disappear soon after. It's a small, simple ceremony, with very few in attendance.

Castiel is a vision in white, her feet bare on the soft grass and flowers in her hair.

 

*

 

She breaks the big news when he's the one who takes a knife to the gut, from a demon this time, and she's slapping him hard on the chest and outright swearing at him - profaning and blaspheming and damn if it's not the sexiest thing he's ever heard, or at least it would be if he wasn't bleeding to death.

"You don't get to die!" she shouts, tears running down her flushed cheeks, jumping across the pink scar on her left cheekbone. "Saraqael said that there were plans for us! I can't raise a baby alone, Dean! I can barely do enough to keep myself going-"

"Baby?" he gasps, ignoring the pain it causes when he twists to lift a hand and tug her face close to his. "Baby?"

"Quite so, Dean Winchester," Sara says, appearing at Cas' shoulder and smiling. "And Castiel is quite right - you don't get to die just yet. Hold still a moment."

She leaves soon after giving them her congratulations, and Dean just sits with Cas in his lap as they laugh and cry from the elation and terror of being parents.

 

*

 

Dean discovers the primal rage that drove his father when Crowley turns up during Cas' second trimester.

"Well, well, if it isn't our own little Grigori - or do you even have the juice to be called that now, Cassie?"

Cas cowers behind Dean, her arms folded around her stomach and her teeth digging into her bottom lip. Dean isn't sure what's going through his head at that moment, but he knows that if anything happens to Cas or to the baby, he'll never forgive himself. Crowley is speaking, but Dean doesn't hear him - all he can hear is his heart beating, his pulse echoing in his ears as he tightens his grip on his knife.

But then Crowley smiles wickedly, lifts his hand and clicks his fingers, and he's behind them both, behind Cas with his hand over her mouth and a wicked-looking knife pressed oh-so-lightly against her stomach.

"You double-crossed me and made dirt of me, Castiel," Crowley murmurs, the knife brushing slowly back and forth across Cas' bump, and Dean feels sick at the site of that blade so close to the baby. "It took me a very long time to find you - didn't think drop-outs had the luxury of guardian angels. But I've found you, and now I'm going to take my time exacting revenge, darling."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Crowley."

And Saraqael is there, and her neat Laura Ashley dress and low-heeled pumps, her pearls and her tidy curls, are suddenly the most terrifying battle armour in the world.

"Unbeknownst to Castiel and Dean, I took it upon myself to ward this house against everything I could think of," she says, a flick of her wrist manifesting her elegant Archangel's blade in her hand. "My brothers were vicious, selfish, cruel bastards when they needed to be, but I'm worse," she continues, circling slowly.

The shadow she casts on the walls is all wings and fury, and even Crowley balks at the rage in her eyes.

"How might you be worse, love? Worse at laying down the protective sigils, perhaps?"

So quickly that none of them understand how it happened, Saraqael has Crowley away from Cas, his knife tucked into the waistband of her apron and her sword ready to be driven through his heart.

"I'm a vindictive, maternal bitch," she snarls, her fingers tightening around his throat. "You really think you could have gotten in here if I hadn't let you? You really think I'd let any harm come to my Castiel?"

"And just who do you think you are, love?" Crowley gasps. "I'm the King of Hell-"

"And I'm the holy Archangel. If anyone has the power to destroy you, it's me - and you just pissed me off."

They disappear together, and Saraqael returns moments later, wiping her fingers on her apron.

"Well, he won't be troubling you again," she says brightly. "I don't know if I'll be able to drop in again until after the children are born, so tell them Nana Sara will be by as soon as she can?"

She kisses Cas' forehead, winks at Dean and is gone, leaving them with the bombshell that they're expecting _babies_ rather than just _baby_.

 

*

 

When Gabriel John Winchester and Rachel Marie Winchester are born, it's as if an alert has gone around the entire hunting community, and they're inundated with cards and tiny baby clothes.

Dean's favourite is a matched pair of babygrows, one blue and one pink, each with a tiny pair of silvery angel wings on the back, which are hand-delivered while Cas and the twins are still in hospital by a bashful Papa Bobby.

Sam, knowing as he does that Dean and Cas will claim a twin each to educate in music, somehow manages to find a baby-sized AC/DC t-shirt and a baby-sized Bowie t-shirt.

Cas' favourite comes courtesy of Nana Sara (who also added Papa as Bobby's official title). Nobody else gets the particular significance of the white lace christening robes, but tears well up in Cas' eyes and that's enough for Dean. Later, when it's just them and the kids, Dean raises the subject with Cas.

"Saraqael had them blessed by the Father," she whispers, not wanting to wake the babies in their arms. "It means He forgives me."

 

*

 

Dean is badly injured on a hunt for the first time since the twins were born when they're six. He misses their first day of kindergarten because he's in surgery, having his large intestine stitched back together.

Cas doesn't know, is angry with him for not answering any of her twenty-five calls, but becomes hysterical when Sam finds Dean's phone and calls her from Washington. She reluctantly agrees to stay put and look after the kids, rather than calling Bobby in to look after them and demanding that Saraqael fly her across the country via Angel-Air, but insists on hourly updates after apologising to Sam for screaming at him - she's still not sure what to do with herself when Dean is injured, now that she doesn't have the power to heal him in a moment.

Dean ends up spending three weeks in hospital, and then two more in the hospital in Sioux Falls, because another demon or ghost - he loses track, somewhere along the way - figures his weak spot and catches him off guard.It's after the New Year before he can really manage to move about on his own, and even then Cas fusses so much that she's clearly reluctant to let him go anywhere without supervision.

It's during that time, while hunting alone, that Sammy meets Angela, which is an almost funnily appropriate name for someone coming into their family.

 

*

 

Cas goes into labour during Sam and Angie's wedding reception, so Dean escapes having to make his best man's speech. Something goes wrong during the birth, though, and they very nearly loose Dean Adam Winchester.

When Cas comes to from the anaesthetic, she insists that they're going to call the baby DJ.

 

*

 

Samuel John Winchester Jr. is born seven months later, while his father and uncle are away hunting a particularly recalcitrant goblin, but it's okay because Angie has Cas with her.

Bobby arrives as soon as he's gotten off the phone with Sam and Dean, both of whom are on the verge of panic attacks, all three of Cas and Dean's kids with him - kids Saraqael nicknamed the "Weechesters" - and a babygrow with a picture of Bigfoot on the front.

Cas gets it when a laughing Angie explains that Bigfoot is also known as the Sasquatch, and that Sam's been called a Sasquatch more than once.

 

*

 

Gabe is so smart it scares Dean, but he's never been prouder than when his son walks into the house after school with a letter from Harvard to say that he's being accepted a year early to pre-med.

When Rachel walks in late that night, teeth glaringly white against her sooty face, he realises that he's just as proud of her for building a new engine pretty much from scratch in the workshop Bobby helped her set up in one of the sheds he didn't use anymore down at the yard.

When DJ gets in trouble at school for the seventh time in four weeks for playing tricks on his teachers, Dean starts to take Saraqael's warning that her and Cas' closeness to Gabriel may result in the kids picking up some of the Trickster-Archangel's less-than-desirable attributes seriously.

 

*

 

Sam and Samsquatch (the name that Sam Jr. gave in and started answering to when he was eight) bring home a stray on the day of Sam and Angie's eighteenth wedding anniversary.His name's Paul, he's sixteen, and they adopt him.

Sam confides in Dean that Angie always wanted a big family, but that run-in with that demon in Colorado had ended that dream. Paul's a balm on an old, sore wound.

 

*

 

When Dean and Cas are twenty-five years married, he gives the kids orders to leave them the hell alone and spirits her off to a hotel somewhere in the middle of nowhere - even he's not sure where it is, just that Bobby gave him directions so it should be safe.

The plan is for a quiet weekend away, some downtime away from the hectic rush of their lives. Even with Dean only taking local hunts, there's still the kids and Bobby and work and the necessary rebuilding of the wards around the house every time some knew thing comes to light.

Their quiet weekend gets blown to bits when a pissy shifter turns up, smells what Cas used to be, and tries to rip her apart. Dean has a feeling that, while the manager is grateful for their help, they'll never be welcome at that particular hotel ever again.

They pull into a shoddy motel on their way home and celebrate their anniversary in the style they're more accustomed to.

 

*

 

When Rachel brings home their first grandchild, Dean finds himself speechless with emotion for maybe only the fifth or sixth time in his life.

He was always amazed by the ease with which Cas took to motherhood, but seeing her sitting on the arm of her old armchair, the same armchair she'd nursed all three of the kids in, while Rachel settles back and coos down at the tiny baby with the huge blue eyes in her arms, is one of the most incredible things he's ever experienced. Jake, Rachel's husband, just leans against the doorframe with a big goofy smile on his face.

Dean ducks out to make coffee before anyone notices the tears in his eyes.

 

* 

 

He's stunned when it's Cas who dies first, and when it's something so mundane and boring as cancer that kills her. Even before they became a they, he always imagined her going out in a blaze of glory, saving innocents from damnation - even after she fell.

But no - they catch it too late to do anything about it, so she simply lives as she always has for what time she has left, baking cookies for their seven grandkids - eight before she passes - and for Sam and Angie's two grandsons, knitting scarves for everyone for the winter, going to church, teaching her kindergarten class at the local elementary school until she gets too weak.

She passes in her sleep, curled up against Dean's chest, her hand cradling the curve of his bicep.

 

*

 

Dean took over from Bobby when Bobby's hearing went completely, and now all those cards that the hunters hand out to direct local law enforcement to their imaginary superiors lead to phones on Dean's study wall.

Bobby's books are now housed in considerably better conditions in the bright, dry room directly across the first-floor hall from Dean's study. The ground floor is taken up with family rooms - Rachel, Jake and the kids moved in with him and Cas years back, because the house feels wrong without lots of people in it. DJ and his family live in Bobby's now (now that DJ's fixed it up) and Gabe and his kids visit every two months or so, because he's busy with work all the time and it's hard being a widower at thirty-five.

Dean's seventy-two when Saraqael comes to see him for the first time since Cas' death, four years to the day before. He has a bum hip, the same leg amputated below the knee fifteen years before after it was crushed and the doctors got to him before the angels. His lungs aren't great, made worse by the cigars he started smoking when Cas wasn't there to reprimand him anymore.

He's good - he's old, and there are days when he misses Cas so much he wants to scream, but the kids and work keep him busy and really, he's good.

"She's waiting for you," Saraqael tells him, leaning against his desk and raising a disapproving eyebrow at his cigar.

"She is?"

"She is. Think you've kept her waiting long enough?"

He thinks. He thinks of Gabe and his four beautiful boys.

He thinks of Rachel and Jake and their two hellions downstairs, exactly what he and Sam would have been if they'd been girls.

He thinks of DJ and Marie and their three, two boys and newborn girl.

He thinks of Sam and Angie, living not too far away in peaceful retirement.

He thinks of Samsquatch and Kira and their little Sammy.

He thinks of Paul and Sophie and their John.

He smiles tiredly at Saraqael and offers her his hand.

"Beam me up, Scotty."


End file.
